


Unspoken

by Retro_Hussy (betsybo)



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Protective Firmus Piett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28875387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betsybo/pseuds/Retro_Hussy
Summary: Vader and Piett enjoy a rare opportunity for intimacy.
Relationships: Firmus Piett/Darth Vader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> So not to be completely obvious but this is very NSFW so obviously choose your reading space wisely! :D

When Vader emerges from his private medical bay Piett isn’t that surprised to see he’s out of the suit, but he gets an excitable jolt at the sight anyway. When they have the time – usually in hyperspace when certain external forces can’t reach them – Vader will remove it every so often, making the most of skin against skin.

Piett gets up from the bed – which he knows is used more by the two of them together than by Vader alone – and smiles at him. He’d been growing just a little concerned that the removal of his own hat, gloves, jacket, boots and socks had been presumptuous, but given that Vader is almost completely naked he doesn’t think so anymore.

Of course, while his may have this temporary liberation, it’s not without a drawback. Above the black oxygen mask affixed over his nose and mouth, his gaze meets Piett’s and he beckons him over with a leather-encased finger. The gloves are the only piece of clothing that he’ll probably keep on so as not to keep pressing cold, hard steel against the other man.

Piett goes to him silently, and once in reach he’s taken by the shoulders as Vader looks him over. The Sith lord runs his hands down along his suspenders, giving the left one a little pull so it snaps back against Piett’s chest.

The admiral grins at the act.

Vader’s quite playful; likes to undress (and dress, on occasion) Piett himself and manoeuvre him about how he likes. Sure enough the suspenders are pushed down off his shoulders and Vader begins to touch him – feeling the contours of Piett’s chest and testing the fit of his waist beneath his palms. Soon he’s tugging the thermal out from the waistband of Piett’s trousers, pulling the garment off him entirely and sliding his hands up over bare flesh, making Piett shiver.

Piett looks up at his lover, watching the way his eyes dance over his form as he explores. With the oxygen mask in place Vader cannot speak and so the only sounds from him are breaths – a fair bit more muted than they would be in the suit. Vader hardly _needs_ a voice to tell him what he wants – barely even needs the Force to make his will clear – but Piett still likes to try and gauge it himself. His lover can’t kiss, but they will make up for it later, and nothing’s stopping Piett. Standing on the balls of his feet, he gets to work seeking out the mottled, red and white flesh available between black straps with his lips.

Vader leans into the attention, bringing the smaller man into an embrace until he’s pressed up against the inner panel that corresponds with the controls on the suit. Piett’s fingers trace the lines of where it sits embedded into skin as he holds still to press little butterfly kisses to Vader’s cheek. It’s _his_ turn to admire now – and given that he so rarely can – he will make sure to be thorough. 

“Lie down,” Piett says softly, and Vader shoots him a raised eyebrow but the admiral is certain he senses a jolt of excitement that isn’t his own. Things like that have been happening more often lately; he’s positive that his hyperawareness of Vader’s presence is something other than just being used to him. The Force is one of Vader’s favourite subjects of discussion but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still shrouded in mystery. He has never addressed this apparent shift between them – whatever it is – and Piett isn’t sure if he should either.

He comes back to the present when something invisible touches his mouth softly; the ghost of a kiss, and he knows it’s Vader. He focuses in time to see the man taking a seat on the bed and then lying back. The tendrils swirl around Piett gently; pulling on him and urging him towards the bed faster.

Piett approaches and climbs up to straddle him, resting upon the man’s impressive thighs and giving them a few loving strokes. The touch causes Vader’s already flushed cock to twitch and stiffen further and he makes a grab for Piett’s middle again, fingers digging into the waistband of his trousers in soundless demand.

Piett unfastens the jodhpurs and then together they pull them down, along with his underwear. He has to climb down for a bit to slide them off completely, Vader’s gaze practically burning into him as he does so, but he soon he’s astride him again.

He studies the man below him through quiet observation and more caresses. He leans down and mouths across his chest and then over towards his shoulder, tracing metal and skin and the points where it all fuses together. The wounds have long healed, but he goes extra gentle on and around them, conscious of a truth that took him some time to realise. A truth that, while entirely unsurprising – obvious even – for someone on permanent life support, still seems incredible: Vader is always in pain.

You would never guess it from the way he carries himself.

It angers Piett. He’s spent enough time inside the oxygen chamber; seen the screens and scanners with their ‘daily outgoing report’ results, seen some of the inner workings of the helmet and suit, too. There are all sorts of intrusive apparatus monitoring Vader’s health and he thinks he knows exactly _who_ gets those results at the end of each cycle.

With so much under constant scrutiny why doesn’t Vader have something better? With everything he does in service to the Empire why isn’t he justly rewarded?

Piett knows that the only time anything of Vader’s gets an upgrade is if it has been damaged irreparably, but the fact remains that the assemble as a whole is long out of date. It’s a statement, he thinks. A cruel and pointed reminder to Vader that he does not have full control – complete freedom.

A hand squeezes his side. Piett raises his head from where he’s been nuzzling distractedly on Vader’s stomach, and sees that Vader’s eyes – sometimes red and yellow, often framed with blue – are watching him knowingly. The man can sense his fury and the realisation goes some way to calm him. He smiles at him and shifts up to begin kissing his throat, just beside the metal tubing that merges from the mask and disappears down into the inner chest panel. He gives that a few licks too, enjoying the metallic taste and the satisfaction of whatever primal instinct drives him to do it.

His own erection shifts lightly across Vader’s belly with his movements, and he’s tempted by the idea of them rutting against each other like they used to when this was something they didn’t talk about. He quivers at the memory of Vader shoving a thigh up between his legs – forcing Piett to stand more or less on tiptoe – and commanding him to grind against it while he watched.

A low growl escapes from behind the oxygen mask and Vader’s hands slide to cup his backside – he knows where Piett’s head is right now.

Piett moves up to suck on his neck in answer. As enticed as he is by the flood of graphic images that are not entirely from his _own_ perspective, he knows what he wants this evening; what Vader wants too. He gives one last kiss to Vader’s chest, and then climbs off again to slide up alongside him. He lightly nudges at the shoulder closest to him so that Vader turns over.

The map of Vader’s past continues on his back – broken blood vessels, variations in tone and smoothness from extensive skin grafts, the raised white line where surgery was performed, and the occasional blue-grey bump where metal is entwined with bone.

The larger man stretches out – elongating several of the old scores in his back – a clear invitation to touch, and Piett massages carefully over scarred tissue and firm muscle, wishing his hands could soothe every ache and strain permanently. They stay like this for a little while, Vader almost rolled onto his front but for his bent knee stopping him, as Piett caresses and kneads everywhere he can reach.

Finally, he hears a small thump, and looks up in time to see a tiny bottle fly into Vader’s outstretched hand. He can’t help being amused as the man passes him the lube. He squeezes some out, coating his index and middle fingers liberally, and then mouths at Vader’s shoulder as he finally moves his hand along to rub over his entrance. He takes care to push the outer ring of muscle around a little, encouraging that to loosen first before actually entering him.

Vader gives an impatient-sounding grunt and promptly shoves back onto the finger, trying to rush the act. Piett cranes his neck up to give him a small, admonishing nip on the jaw in return. He starts to move the digit in and out of Vader’s heat but refuses to hasten getting a second inside. He makes a mental note to just try doing this some time; they can do it to each other if it will mean Vader will just lie back and _enjoy_ himself.

When he’s satisfied Vader can take more, he begins pumping two fingers in and out as he sucks little red marks along his spine. Vader gives an appreciative noise and moves with him as Piett hears the bed sheet on his side tear slightly. As he adds a third finger he hums softly against Vader’s neck and leans up to check on him. The man’s eyes are closed, and he’s clearly happy although there’s still that faint air of frustration hanging over them as he holds himself back – not wanting to get going before Piett’s fucking him.

Only too happy to oblige, Piett gently removes his fingers and slicks his cock up with more of the lube. He shuffles down a bit and then grabs Vader’s arse cheek in his hand, spreading him.

Vader moves a hand back, searching until he finds Piett’s thigh and he pulls slightly, bringing them closer together. Piett moans as the head of his cock catches Vader’s rim, and then he wraps an arm around the larger man’s torso as he presses into that heat.

“ – Oh!” he gasps as Vader groans.

Piett hooks his leg around Vader’s hip and begins thrusting – slow, measured. His foot strokes along cool metal, and he opens his eyes to see the elbow joint of Vader’s right arm prosthetic rotating above him as the man moves to brace it against the mattress.

There’s another ripping noise and then Vader shoves back against him again, pushing his cock deeper inside. Piett moans and wraps around him tighter, thrusting faster. He hopes he’s giving him enough; it would probably be easier in a different position but at least this way he can give Vader all the contact he must crave so desperately. He also enjoys getting a grip on him like this; feeling his strength and size in all his absolute glory. Breathing harshly, he mouths at the skin between Vader’s shoulder blades, thinking for a moment of how much he adores this man; how completely obsessed with him he’s become. He wants to embrace him further – to bring him into his warmth and let him be there and feel whatever it is he can’t the rest of the time.

Vader snarls and his gloved hand returns to Piett’s sweaty thigh, effectively locking them together as they move. It’s so tight – their clinch and the one around Piett’s hardness – it would almost be unbearable were it not for the pleasure coursing through and around them.

“Fuck,” Piett murmurs and stretches his arm down, reaching for the other man’s cock. When he gets ahold of it it’s leaking fluid everywhere, and he uses that to ease the glide of his hand up and down its hot length.

Vader’s panting – Piett might have been concerned had he not heard it before – and then sure enough Vader’s hips begin to give a telltale stutter – his shaft twitches in Piett’s hand and then suddenly warm stickiness coats both of their skin. As he comes he tightens around Piett, who gives just a few further thrusts and then moans loudly as he spills inside him. It’s bliss; complete and utter bliss, and when Piett comes to he finds himself biting at the juncture between Vader’s throat and shoulder.

He releases him slowly; almost several times over it seems as he relaxes his jaw, and then the grip on his sternum and cock. When he goes to move his leg off his hip and pull out, Vader clenches his hand upon his thigh, keeping him in place.

Piett understands. He stays put and starts up his nuzzling against Vader’s face and neck again. His heartbeat thuds against Vader’s spine, and he listens to the man’s breaths calm to their usual, steady repetitions. 

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to expand on this to feature actual plot but it's not happening apparently, so there you go. Hope you enjoyed the porn anyway! <3  
> EDIT: Forgot to add! This was partially inspired by this tumblr post: (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/kylostahp/155046107767) about Imperial Uniforms.


End file.
